Everyone Leaves
by Tessa Vetinari
Summary: Michael, Franklin, and Trevor are tasked with a job for Madrazo. What starts out simple gets progressively stranger and more complicated when a new crime lord arrives in Los Santos and links their business with T.P.I. Set after Eye In The Sky.
1. Chapter I: A Warm Welcome

**Disclaimer:**

**I was prompted to start writing this story the day I learnt that my bravest guardian, faithful partner in crime, and oldest friend, Derrick, wouldn't be with us much longer. Today, the day after his passing, he's given me the guts to publish the first chapter.**

**In case you like this story, please know that it is dedicated to my family's sweet, handsome, and fiercely loyal canine companion of 16 years.**

**If you don't like it, forget I mentioned him and don't hesitate to give me an honest feedback.**

* * *

Franklin was leaning against his car, arms crossed.

"So we doin' this shit?"

"What, you're fine with killing and theft but kidnapping is beyond the line? Relax, ain't nobody gettin' hurt," Michael retorted.

"Aaaah, don't ruin the fun before we've even started," Trevor chimed in.

Michael gave him the usual stern look and pointed a finger at him.

"Madrazo wants this to be a clean job, you hear? We grab her, keep her stashed away for a day or two, she goes back to daddy the moment Madrazo is paid."

"How do we make it so that daddy doesn't take out his revenge on us during the exchange?" Trevor asked.

"We'll just drop her off somewhere quiet and send him the coordinates. Look, we can think this over once we grab her. The plane lands in… 1 hour and 40 minutes. We better get ready now."

* * *

...

Half an hour later, the trio exited a car parked in one of the lots intended for airport staff, all dressed as airport security. Michael turned to Franklin:

"The van is parked a bit farther back that way, grab it and wait for us near the back door. We should be out soon after the landing. I've checked just five minutes ago and there was no delay."

"Okay dog, see you in a bit. You make sure you both chill a'ight?"

"Sure, as chill as we need to be," said Michael in a reassuring tone before walking up a few stairs and using the LSIA ID card to open the personnel-only back door.

* * *

...

As Trevor and Michael entered, they were met with a shy looking Check-In Agent smiling at them.

"Misters M and T?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, we're here to secure a, uh, package," Michael responded.

"A special delivery for our mutual friend," added Trevor who pushed past his friend and stepped closer to the man, eyeing him up and down, "so special it needs a special case. You got one for us?"

The Agent smiled back.

"Yes, it's waiting in a nearby room, stickers and all. I'll show you the way."

He lead them though a series of service halls lined with locked doors, nearly all of them empty. During the ten-minute walk, they only met a handful of various employees, mostly other ground handling staff.

The group got stuck for a while because their guide met two pretty colleagues in fancy blue uniforms who wanted to complain about the passengers on their last flight. Both were giving the two tall security guards side looks and smiles.

Eventually they went to get lunch and the group swiftly continued on their way, soon stopping in front of a door right next to the heavy white door separating the service hall from gate area.

The Agent fiddled around with a large set of keys hanging from his neck until he found the right one and unlocked the door. The small dark room was empty aside from a large luggage. The agent turned on the single light in the room as Trevor knelt next to the suitcase and studied the various stickers.

"Did you put an _AVIH_ sticker on this thing? Who'd put an animal in a suitcase and label it?"

The Agent laughed nervously.

"Hahah, oh I just thought it would be funny. Here," he peeled off another sticker and put it on top of the suitcase.

"Can't go wrong with _Fragile_, eh?"

"Veeery funny," said Michael sarcastically, "how about you go now? Seems to me like you already know too much. M's people will keep a watchful eye on us from now on." As he said that he moved his head towards a small, barely noticeable camera in the corner of the room. Nearly every inch of the airport was under constant surveillance and their little stunt was only possible because Madrazo had enough sense to put his people into the seats of airport employees responsible for watching streams from all those cameras.

"Sure, hope this is the last time I see you today. Oh, and here's your walkie-talkie. This is how you switch channels. If something goes wrong, M's people will let you know on this frequency. You can listen to us chatting on others if you get bored."

"_HUM_? That's a bit dark don't you think? An _LHO_ sticker would be more appropriate and about as suspicious."

"Quit readin' and come check out the area with me. We still have a little time to plan this."

Trevor got up and followed Michael out of the room and through the main door. It didn't open directly into the frequented hall lined with duty-free shops and people which gave Michael hope they could actually get away with this without alerting anyone nearby. They had to walk about ten meters before they reached the main area and stopped at the corner.

It was still very early in the morning and the halls weren't too busy. Most shops were closed. Only a small group of employees and passengers sat outside a non-stop café.

"Should be easy enough," Trevor hummed and leaned against the wall. He paused and looked at the rifle in his hands.

"Isn't it crazy how easy it is to come here with a weapon and nobody even gives a fuck? They make all these poor bastards take their shoes off and throw away their toothpaste and then two criminals like us just waltz in with these. I could go mad and shoot everybody."

"Yeah well don't do that, think about the money," Michael quickly responded, then frowned and added "and Madrazo."

"I'll try. You got the thing?"

Michael touched his pocket.

"Right here."

"Wanna do it? I could do it. You could say I have some expertise in…"

"I ain't trustin' you with a syringe, T. We want to return her in good health, without a blood poisoning or a drug habit."

Trevor put on an offended look.

"Excuuuse me?"

* * *

...

They kept needling each other for about 20 minutes until the walkie-talkie made a sound. They exchanged looks and Michael raised it to his mouth, pressed the button and responded.

"Uh, this is M speaking? Precious cargo pick up team?"

"Hi," said a voice which they recognized as that of the Agent despite how different it sounded now.

"Gate's the same but the ATA is 0335 now. You better get ready for the pick up."

"Thanks for the info, but I believe I told you to go away. Your involvement in this thing is over, remember?"

"Yeah but… I'm sitting in 46B and see you guys chatting instead of paying attention to the screens."

Trevor shot an angry look down the hallway to where he saw someone sitting behind an otherwise empty gate desk, talking into the service phone.

"Not your concern pal," Michael stressed each word and put the walkie-talkie down. After a moment of hesitation, he looked at the nearest screen attached to the ceiling. His eyes followed the flight numbers until he found the one he was looking for. He paused on the time displayed under _Scheduled_ and begrudgingly noted the Agent was right – every ten seconds, the numbers switched and the one he was interested in now read _ATA 03:35_. He turned to Trevor and gave him a nod. The package would arrive shortly.

* * *

_..._

_(Motion from Suits starts playing)_

Tessa reciprocated the flight attendant's fake smile as she exited the plane among the last of the passengers and walked through the trunk, as she liked to call it.

Her flight wasn't half full and the terminal was rather quiet for half past three am. The escalators were empty, but instead of walking down like she usually would, she stood and watched the sunrise through the big windows as she slowly descended.

It took her a few seconds to locate the baggage reclaim sign. She went in the direction it gave her, passing two passengers in colourful shirts and flip-flops. She already felt overdressed for LS in her white shirt, long, dark blue suit pants, and a long black woollen coat, albeit a thin one. The outfit wasn't warm enough back where she travelled from.

The long, air-conditioned journey did little to cure the cold she had caught before leaving. Nevermind, she would meet her new bodyguards as soon as she picked up the suitcase and could change into something more appropriate once they made it to the house.

* * *

...

Daydreaming about the warm weather and reuniting with her family, she ignored the two armed security guards she was passing. It was only when one of them said something in sharp tone that she looked their way and pulled out her earbuds.

"Excuse me, what can I…" she was cut mid-through the sentence as one guard grabbed her by her elbow and spun her a bit into a side hallway leading to service door. Just as she took a large breath to protest, the second guard, who now stood behind her back, quickly put his arm around her shoulders while his other hand immediately covered her mouth. He raised her a few inches above the ground and arched her head backwards, pressing it under his chin, which made it easier for guard number one to empty the contents of a small syringe into an artery standing out on her neck. She was out in five seconds, long before she had time to think about what was happening.

* * *

...

Trevor dragged the limp body backwards while Michael ran towards the door and used his card to unlock it. He held it open and helped Trevor quickly hide in the side room. There, they carefully folded the unconscious girl into the suitcase and sighed in relief over the fact she fit in there comfortably. There was even enough room to put her medium-sized handbag inside as well. Trevor pulled a phone out or her pocket, unplugged the earbuds, and sliped it into his jacket. Slowly lifting the suitcase upright, they called Franklin to let him know they would be coming out in ten minutes. Michael remembered to leave the walkie-talkie on the floor, giving the camera a quick thumbs up.

Walking at a fast pace and with serious expressions plastered across their faces, they were making their way back as another pair of airport security rounded the corner, same rifles in hands. Their eyes immediately shot to the large suitcase and they laughed.

"PAX, right? Can't trust them to keep an eye on their shit. Let alone the forbidden contents."

"Right," Trevor laughed back without slowing down. Cold sweat ran down his temple but they soon reached the exit. Both men let out a sigh of relief as the morning sun hit them and breeze cooled their faces. They only made a few steps before a black van screeched to a halt in front of them.

They grunted as they carried the suitcase down the stairs before lifting it into the back of the van. Michael jogged back along the side of the van to slip into the passenger's seat while Trevor sat in the back to hold the suitcase still.

"Everythin' alright?" Franklin asked as soon as Michael opened the door.

"Yeah, now let's book it out of here before anyone realizes we don't work here."

* * *

...

They used Michael's fake ID to get out of the complex and soon put a nice distance between them and the airport. Franklin's driving skills were impeccable as always.

"Destination unchanged?" Franklin asked and Michael couldn't fail to notice the objection in his voice. He put on his reassuring tone:

"That's right. The delivery won't stay long. Don't worry, this won't be the first person T has held captive."

"Might be the first one to survive."

"This one is worth a lot of money only as long as she's alive. T knows that. He'll do right by her."

Sensing that Franklin still wasn't convinced, he continued.

"Unless you've got a better spot, a cabin in the woods perhaps, one nobody will think to look inside," he teased.

"Not really dog, but…"

"And time for a little vacation in that lonely cabin before we turn the package over."

"A'ight, I'm cool okay?! Just don't want this to be another lick I ain't gettin' paid for."

"Relax," Michael added before knocking on the small window between them and loudly asking

"You two getting on well back there?"

"Oh Mikey, you know that I always get along _very_ well with ladies."

"That is if their standards and hourly rates are low enough…"

"Very funny. Keep on being funny and I might laugh so hard I accidentally knock this suitcase over. This isn't my schtick anyway."

"Hey, I might be the contractor, but you're getting paid as much as we are. Don't fuck this up. Madrazo says this man only has one daughter."

"Suuure, wouldn't want to get my old pal into any trouble. Speaking of which, here's her phone. Swing it out the window, would you?"

Michael and Franklin listened to Trevor struggling for a little while. They smirked as he hit the window and shouted:

"And open this _fucking_ thing!"

* * *

...

"Alright, time to inspect the merchandise," Trevor yelled out and excitedly jumped out as the van came to a stop in his yard. Franklin helped him wheel the suitcase into the garage. Trevor opened a hidden trap door in the floor and climber down a metal ladder attached to the wall. They slowly lowered the suitcase down and joined him underground.

Franklin and Michael stood in a small, slightly damp room. Trevor was already working on unlocking a heavy metal door similar to those in prison cells they all knew well. There was a larger room behind the door, a long LED on the wall on their right made it well lit. A table under it looked like it belonged in a mortuary, its smooth metal surface reflected the light. There were tool boxes, a drill, and a saw on it.

"Spent many eventful nights down here, have you?" Michael noted, eyeing the table with disgust.

"Jealous? You can be my guest any time," Trevor responded as he walked towards the actual cell door; the room was separated in two thirds by metal bars with fitting door in the middle. The cell was just as barren as the other room, made entirely of grey concrete. A dirty old chair stood in the middle, right under a ceiling light. There was also a mattress in the corner, next to a chain fixed to the wall.

Trevor opened the door and gestured for the two men to go inside before he reached for duck tape on the table and walked in after them. Franklin laid the suitcase down and made sure they were all standing around it, with Trevor blocking the only escape route, before unzipping and slowly opening it. He stood back.

Nothing happened.

"Sure you got the dosage right?" Trevor asked Michael and leaned closer to see if their guest was breathing.

"Should be about right. Maybe she's taking some medication. Or perhaps she had a drink on the plane. I'm sure she'll be up in a few hours. Now let's help her get settled here."

They took the body out and laid it on the mattress. Trevor tied her hands together with the duck tape, put a piece over her mouth, and finally started securing the chain to her ankle.

"Isn't that too much?" Franklin asked.

"Is it your job to keep her down here? No? I didn't think so, kid."

The metal clicked and Trevor rose to his feet, noticing Michael looking around.

"What is it, Mikey? Not the palace you'd been imagining?"

"Where's the toilet?"

Trevor moved a filthy bucket from under the chair closer to the mattress.

"There."

"Aw shit," Franklin moved away, "this girl's got a couple interesting hours ahead of her. I better bail before T decides to keep me here too. I know the way out. Let me know when the payment arrives, I'll help you with the delivery."

They said their goodbyes. Michael noticed Trevor grinning as Franklin left.

"What's so funny, T?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that your boy may be the first person ever to get away from here using the ladder."

Michael knew he would regret asking but he couldn't help himself.

"What's the usual way?"

Trevor's grin widened as he pointed to a large drain in the floor on the opposite side of the room.

"I used to have a woodchipper here but that's no fun. I prefer a hands-on experience."

"Charming. I better go. Make sure she lives, okay? And I want no funny business here. I will be checking on you."

Trevor faked a hurt tone:

"Whaaat, can't you just trust your old friend?"

Michael looked at the unusually well-dressed man staring back at him before his gaze shifted to the dishevelled young woman whom he had drugged, tied, and was now leaving chained in Trevor Philips' secret sound-proof basement. Or, more precisely, his torture chamber.

The feeling he had been battling with for the past two days finally overcame him. In that moment, he felt like an absolute idiot.

"How I wish I could."


	2. Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home

Trevor woke up spread across his bed. He decided to catch some sleep after working so early in the morning. Trouble was, the speed wore off and it made him miserable. The pulsing pain in his temples was making his mood even worse.

He rolled from the bed with a groan and called out for Ron. He kept calling his name, louder and angrier every time, until he heard rushed steps and someone barging into the trailer. He opened his eyes and saw Ron's pale face in the doorframe.

"Get me a coffee before I have to eat you for breakfast."

"Absolutely!"

Luckily for Ron, Trevor was slow to open his drug stash and take a pill of speed. He strenuously got up and took the cup from Ron.

"Thank you kindly. You get to live another day, yay!"

His fake cheerfulnes was only slightly less unnerving than the genuine thing.

Ron followed him outside, Trevor already sitting on the porch, sipping his coffee. Ron wanted to talk but knew better than to ask Trevor Philips any questions before his drugs kicked in.

He waited until he thought Trevor wasn't swinging as much as he was ten minutes ago.

"So, I heard some commotion this morning… was is T.P.I. related?"

"Ron, you know what a workoholic I am. What time is it?"

"Around… five pm."

"Hmph."

Trevor finished his coffee with last sip. He didn't feel so shitty anymore.

"Time to get back to work. Wanna take a look at our latest project, Ron? You are the CEO after all."

Ron got visibly excited.

"Sure! Let me turn the TV off before we go-"

Trevor sprung up and jumped down the stairs, heading into the garage.

"No need, we aren't going far."

"But my bills-"

Trevor abrubtly turned on his heel and Ron nearly crashed into him. Someone who didn't personally know Trevor would think Ron would be used to his angry look by now. That person would be wrong. Ron was rightfully terrified for all the good reasons.

"I would punish you but I'm getting too excited to waste time on it now. Remind me to do it later."

"I will. Sorry, Trevor!"

"Keep that for laters. Now come on!"

The speed had fully kicked in now. Trevor excitedly opened the trap door and practically jumped down. Ron reached the bottom of the ladder just as Trevor finished unlocking the door, gesticulating for him to hurry.

"Hurry up Ron, you're making it worse for yourself. You know how much I hate doing that!"

He threw the door open and turned the cell light on. Ron rushed in behind him, more confused by the second.

His jaw dropped when he scanned the room and saw a bound person wriggling on a mattress, rattling a chain attached to the wall. Shock turned to horror when he realised it was a girl, probably in her early twenties.

"Trevor?"

"Shut up, Ron," Trevor hissed back and leaned on the bars. The girl stopped moving when they locked eyes and Trevor put on a maniacal smile.

"Hey there, cupcake!"

He unlocked the cell door and leisurely strolled to the chair. Ron anxiously watched him pick it up and set it facing backwards near the bottom of the mattres. Trevor grunted as he sat down comfortably, crossed his arms across the back of the chair, and rested his chin on it. Then he cast a downward look at the girl, judging and sizing her up.

Her looks matched the fact she had been stuffed into a suitcase, taken on a two-hour ride, and tied up in complete darkness for about twelve hours. All after getting off a long flight. Still, he liked her wide, high, pronounced cheekbones. They were nicely accentuated by her narrow jaw. She seemed mad, but maybe her eyebrows were always like that. Her hazel eyes were glaring up into his. They were red, she's probably been crying. How cute. Especially when he took her too big, neotenous forehead and upturned nose into account. Rest of her face was covered in duck tape. He was curious to continue his assesment but wanted to make sure he wouldn't be interrupted.

"Welcome to San Andreas! My name's Trevor Philips. Yours is a fucking mess. I ain't even gonna try."

Her nostrills flared in response and she murmured something into the tape.

"All in due time, sweetheart. I'll allow for some Q&A later. What you need to know is that now, you're an asset of Trevor Philips Industries. And a fine one, the finest, right behind the biz-heli. And that's partly because you're not a tax write-off."

Ron calmed down enough to start breathing again, overcoming his shock. He stood back in the shadows, out of the reach of the lightbulb, and was now interested both in the "new asset" herself and in what his boss was up to. Everyone in the dingy basement was intently focused on what Trevor Philips had to say.

"I know this facility is not up to the standard you're used to, but don't you worry. You'll be out as soon as Papa wires the money. I'm afraid we can't have fun together before that. That would be unprofessional from both of us. But let me tell you, cupcake," Trevor abrubtly stood up and walked closer,

"stress me out by doing something stupid like hurting yourself or trying to escape and I _will_ have to let out some steam. Believe me, _you_ won't be having fun then."

He riped off the tape from her mouth to emphasize his words. Her furrowed, bushy brows immediately narrowed and she took in a few deep breaths.

"You got any questions, now's the time!"

His words earned him a pierceful gaze as they brought her back to the present reality. Briefly licking her lips, she said in a husky voice and somewhat imperative tone,

"Where's the bathroom? I need the bathroom."

Trevor seemed frustrated at the palpatable lack of fear. He kicked the dirty bucket towards her and she made a disgusted face as it bounced off her leg.

"You got eyesight problems, shortcake?"

Ron could swear she put on a smug look the moment Trevor's words left his mouth. Must have been the poor lighting, he thought to himself.

"Yes, actually, thanks to you I have. Why don't you look closely into my eyes?"

Trevor let out an intrigued grunt and bent forwards, probably thinking she was flirting with him with eyes opened wide.

"Are you wearing contact lenses?"

Now she was definitely grimacing up at him smugly.

"That face is making you even uglier. Ew, and what's that?!"

She sniffed and said,

"Snot."

"Ooh, a real princess."

"Must have put in the wrong order."

The next second, Trevor was kneeling next to her, holding her bound hands while threateningly pointing a finger in her face. Yet it seemed that he used each word to calm himself down rather than with the intent to scare her.

"You're lucky I am a gentleman and a respectable entrepreneur who remembers how much lower your price would be should I crack your head open now."

He let his words sink in, then yanked them both up with a cheerful

"Come on then!"

…

Tessa was thoroughly wiping her hands dry on her own shirt while observing the state of the bathroom sink with growing concern. Then she looked to her right and met Trevor's gaze. He was leaning against the door frame, both arms up, effectively blocking the path.

"It's hard to do when someone's staring at me."

"Either you take 'em out with me staring or you get to keep them in for another day or so. I am sure daddy will want you even when you're blind."

Seeing the conversation would go nowhere, she leaned closer to the broken mirror while making sure no part of her body would touch it, nor the unspeakably soiled toilet she was straddling. It took her at least ten minutes to pull out both dry lenses from her irritated eyes, and to her frustration, her captor seemed amused with every failed attempt. Finally, she fished out the second one, her red eye letting down a few tears. The lense landed in the toilet and Tessa turned to the man.

"Can I use the toilet while I'm in here?"

"As much as I would love to watch, I have a strict bucket-for-rich-brats policy."

Another disgusted frown from her momentarily pushed him over the edge. He stepped into the room, briefly grabbed the back of the girl's neck, and slammed her face into the mirror. Not hard enough to break it but enough to make it painful. He got a wave of pleasure from the way she twitched under his touch and how her shoulders shot up right before her stupid face slammed into the dirty mirror she had been carefully avoiding just a minute before.

"You sure have a problem with respecting authority. You'll fit right in with the kids in LS."

Wanting to touch her hair again, he twisted it around his fist and used it to navigate her back into the cell, not before blindfolding her again. It made it harder to make her climb down the ladder but it gave him an excuse to shove her when she was too slow to descend. Not expecting the shove, she fell down on her back, stopping short of hitting her head, and started coughing. Trevor rolled his eyes as he jumped from the ladder and walked over to drag her into the cell.

"Like I said – a fucking princess."

This time, he left her hands free, but attached the chain to her ankle again. He also threw her a roll of toilet paper "so that she wouldn't look like complete shit at the handover." He heard her blowing her nose as he was locking the door. If only he was her father… he'd make sure she was more disciplined and well-mannered. Who scoffs at their abductor? Well he probably would. But when the roles were reversed, he demanded due respect. Who scoffs at _him_? That kind of entitlement made him want to kill something. So he did. Something of lesser value.

…

The 8 o'clock news started just as he was stuffing a foot down the toilet. He heard the opening tune, tried flushing one more time, then cursed and went to open a beer instead. Ron slipped away as soon as he could and Trevor was glad not to be bothered by him.

It didn't last long though. Trevor let out an annoyed grunt as he looked at his ringing phone and saw Michael's face.

"Hey. Cargo doing alright?"

"Yeeeah. You know, I'm not sure T.P. Industries should become a postal service. Is the profit worth it I mean? It's really pulling on my nerves, might need a frick."

"Just bear with it for the time being. Think of it as keeping a friend's goldfish while he's out of town.

"I was getting worried, you were slow to make this about yourself. Just so you know," Trevor stretched his legs comfortably,

"I'm expecting you to return the favour, sugar tits. You owe me a big score for this. And other things."

He could hear Michael was both annoyed and amused.

"A big mouth on that one I'd imagine."

"It's more in the expressions. Still, just about as respectful as Tracey."

"Hey leave my daughter out of this-"

"Relax."

There was a moment of silence before Michael continued,

"Guess they have a lot in common. Both rich, spoiled by their criminal dads…"

"Fat and ugly dads, yes."

"… although her dad, phew. He's more of the sit-back kinda guy, the mob boss in the shadows, petting a cat type. Did you know she's been kidnapped twice before? Her brother too. Makes their dad look sloppy."

"So you're saying I shouldn't be worried about him in the scenario where I keep her down here or have a bite. Noted."

"In that case scenario, you'll have to find out yourself. How is she by the way?"

"Whaaat, what's with all the questions? Can't you just trust me for once in your life?"

"I'm not sure my conscience could take it."

"Oooh Mikey, you've always been such a funny guy."

"You got it bud. Madrazo said he had delivered the message, shouldn't have to wait long."

"Sure, gimme a call when it happens. See you then!" Trevor abrubtly hang up and turned the volume up. He was in a good mood after finding that hiker. Things led to an eventful afternoon. He was reminescing over the past two hours, whistling a positive tune as he stirred the stew cooking on his stove.

He had a bit of trouble climbing down the ladder with a bowl and a cannister full of water; the people inside weren't meant to be pampered. He would have built a fucking staircase.

Naturally, there was no small door to slide food into the cell, so he had to unlock the cell door and put the bowl next to the mattress.

"Now, I know we have started off with the wrong foot," he said slowly, aware of the fact her eyes were following the canister. He made sure to swing it around, the water audibly splashing inside, as he leuisurely continued,

"but you gotta admit it was your fault too. So before I give you this, I'd like you to say 'Thank you, Uncle T!' Can you do that, sweet cheeks?"

She looked him directly in the eye and said what he wanted to hear in the most innocent and casual tone, as if they were an actual uncle and niece sitting in a garden somewhere. It was too perfect to be genuine and they both knew. He couldn't ignore a direct objection to his authority. Very few people mocked Trevor Philips and lived long afterwards.

Trevor kept the eye contact as he unscrewed the lid and started pouring water over his captive, who just hung her head. He emptied about half of the cannister, then handed it to her with a sickly sweet smile.

"Here you go, darling."


	3. Chapter 3: The Handover

"Oh thank God," said Michael as he pulled into Trevor's driveway and saw him sitting at the patio, one arm around the blindfolded, handcuffed girl's shoulders. She didn't seem agitated, although she looked dirty and… damp?

"Hey, let's go homie!" Franklin shouted over Michael's car as he stepped out.

"Money's in, everybody be waitin' on us."

Trevor pulled the hostage closer, as if giving her a reassuring hug, or showing his possession of her.

"We got the merch, we set the conditions of handing it over!"

"'It' is a mobster's kid and she deserves to go home. So do I and Franklin. Let's get this over with."

…

Their hostage interrupted the silent car ride with a loud sniff, followed by a fit of wet cough.

"Trevor, I said I wanted no funny business."

"She had the cold when we brought her in!"

"Isn't she wet?"

"She _needed_ a shower, Michael! Hygiene is a very important part of girls' lives."

"You better pray is doesn't stain the leather."

"Good to see where your true priorities lay."

They parked on a dirt road in the middle of the desert and sat the hostage on the ground. Wind was picking up the dust, coating her wet clothes and hair. Tessa hid her face in the opening of her coat, thinking that her father's henchmen couldn't come soon enough.

Michael kept checking his phone, awaiting further instruction. Something didn't go according to plan. Madrazo ordered them to wait and do nothing. Michael didn't exactly trust the drug lord but he didn't think he would set them up to be killed. To further ease his edge, as well as Fraklin's and Trevor's, he decided to chitchat.

"I hear this is your third kidnapping?"

The girl turned her head and he could almost see an observant glance thrown in his direction from under her long, dark, unkept hair despite the blindfold.

"It is."

"How do we compare so far?"

"Rather poorly I'm afraid. I would always get ice cream right before the handover."

Trevor turned around with a frustrated frown,

"You could have said so! We passed the best ice cream place this side of San Andreas! The only one too."

"Too late now," Franklin chimed in. He watched the sun setting over the horizon, thinking about their situation and whether he was justified to trust Michael to handle this.

"The guys should pick you up soon, you can get ice cream on the way home."

He was thinking for a moment, then asked her,

"Does your father kill the men who hand you over?"

"Hmmm, no," she said pensively and he started feeling a little better about their ordeal.

"It's usually hired snipers who kill them, fake prostitues sometimes. I think the most viable man lived for three hours."

"Sounds like a challenge!" Trevor laughed. Franklin turned back to glare at Michael who was trying to defuse the anxiety before it could set down on the group. He wasn't fast enough.

"But the average is just over 21 minutes-"

"Alright alright, not for us though, because we're gonna be long gone by the time-"

"Hey, we got company," Trevor called out and pointed his gun towards three black cars making their way towards them. As if in response to his movement, the first car honked.

"Pipe down, it's Mad… boss," said Michael quickly. Two SUVs and a sedan soon stopped next to them. A bodyguard swiftly jumped out of the first SUV and opened the sedan's door to reveal Michael Madrazo.

"Good to see you, Michael!" he half-heartedly laughed as he walked over to where they stood, circling the hostage. Then he bent over, hands on his knees,

"And hello, _princesa_! I knew your grandfather. A great man. Shame what happened to him. Occupational hazard, nothing one can do."

"You mean the Italian or the Russian one?"

"And here I was hoping you would remember me from the wonderful party he threw on that vineyard in Tuscany."

Franklin sheepishly came in with

"Look, sorry to interrupt, I'm loving y'all's polite conversation, but I must admit I'm kinda nervous about these killers comin' to clip us all."

"Don't you worry boy, there's been a change of plans. Everyone will be walking away from here on their own. None of our lives will be shortened because of this – well, maybe yours," he waved a hand in a very general direction and dismissively turned his back on the group. He cast an appreciative look at the lit-up desert and sighed.

"Could you take her blindfold off now? We won't be needing it anymore."

Franklin exchanged a look with Michael who shrugged. Then he pulled down the girl's blindfold. Her surprised expression mirrored his own feelings. She frowned and immediately sneezed into her shoulder.

"I thought it was so cute when you did that on the party. Sixteen years later, I still think so."

Madrazo kept overlooking some hills in the distance. Franklin now noticed that his men were vigilant and heavily armed. He started doubting Madrazo's previous statement about walking out of here.

Distant sound interrupted his thoughts and he looked to where everyone else seemed to have turned their attention to by now; he could see a helicopter climb over the distant hills, turning and heading for them. It looked small, like a Buzzard.

"Now, whatever happens, I want you to know it isn't personal. If things were solely up to me, we'd all be having a nice dinner…"

The Buzzard picked up speed, its nose dove forwards, and Franklin saw it was an attack chopper. However hopeless against the enemy, he pulled out his pistol and glanced at his mentors who were clutching their weapons, staring at the chopper with grim expressions. Maybe Michael would be able to shoot the pilot…

"… _right… now_."

Everybody watched as an unseen marksman fired a rocket launcher at the chopper. It seemed to happen so slowly, the rocket lazily made its way towards the target and it seemed impossible it could actually succeed. But then it did.

The chopper was hit in the tail and shook from the impact, then went down turning in circles, ending in a crash. The group heard a distant sound of dirt bikes and then machine fire. Stunned silence enveloped the desert.

It only lasted a minute before they heard similar sound coming from the opposite direction. It was another Buzzard and Franklin briefly thought it was trying to surprise them, but this one made its way towards them slowly and he eventually realised it wasn't armed. The chopper landed at a respectful distance and only one man jumped out, hands raised, and approached them.

"Timely arrival, James."

Madrazo stepped forward, smiling at the newcomer.

"Everything went according to plan?"

"Perfectly," responded James in a posh British accent James Bond could be proud of. He sported a fittingly handsome face too.

"It's crunch time for us but we don't see any bumps coming along the way. I believe you've just made a fine firework of the last one there," he nodded his head in direction of the smoking pile of metal out in the desert.

"Good! Then we are done here. I am looking forward to our future business dealings, young man," said Madrazo cheerfully, shaking the newcomer's hand. James beamed a smile back, then moved towards the girl who hadn't moved an inch during everything that had just unfolded around them.

Madrazo stopped him.

"No, I think you've done enough work for today. Go deal with the rest and leave this to our friends here."

James opened his mouth to object and almost managed to squeeze out "But-"

"I insist."

James shut his mouth, nodded, took one last look at the girl who was ignoring him just as she was ignoring everything else, then he turned on his heel and returned to the chopper.

_(Falling Apart from Suits starts playing)_

Madrazo watched him until the chopper took off, then turned back to Michael.

"You heard. Consider this whole thing done. The last piece of the puzzle," he pointed at the girl,

"is yours to deal with as you please. I suggest silencing her, but that's just how I personally deal with loose ends."

"Wait," Michael stepped forward in reaction to Madrazo turning away, heading to his car.

"So this whole job was a fraud? There's no ransom money? No cut?!"

"Michael, dear Michael. It has served its purpose, hasn't it? These people, they don't pull away when you burn them by, say, kidnapping their children. We did get half of the money though. Your payment will be lowered accordingly. But think about it this way, gentlemen," he said, spreading his arms as if inviting all three men for an embrace,

"They would have come after you. I got rid of them both on my own expenses which, let me tell you, greatly exceed your lost revenue!"

He finished his monologue by directing his speech to Michael,

"I'll keep in touch. Pleasure working with you, Michael."

Madrazo and his men moved to get into their cars. Michael, Franklin, and Trevor watched them, unsure of what to take from what just happened.

"When he said he got rid of them, probably wasn't talking about the chopper… so we clear?"

"Oh, we're definitely clear," said Trevor in a surprised, almost impressed tone and looked up from his phone. He showed his friends the news article he'd just read.

"Shit. You're right. That's good I guess… are they sure they are _both_…"

"It says so right here. Namely. And they cleared the vault too." Trevor shifted his attention to the girl and stared at the back of her head, thinking.

"Well, all that's left now is to decide what we do with the last piece of the puzzle."

Everyone looked up from their phones and studied the 'cargo'. As if feeling their eyes on her, she said, barely above whisper,

"My father and brother. They are dead, aren't they." Her voice broke midway through and her shoulders started shaking.

"I'm afraid you are a failed delivery, sweet cheeks," Trevor patted her shoulder.

Franklin questioningly raised his gun and vaguely pointed it at her head, making his question clear.

"Deal's done, how about them loose ends?"

"Oh I have a LOT of experience in tying those," Trevor signed up without hesitation but Michael dismissed him:

"You've done enough. I… I'll do it."

"Man, if you don't wanna… I can-"

"No, Frank," Michael cut him off with a gloomy smile.

"Once you go down that way, there's no going back."

Ignoring Trevor's frustrated frown, Michael reached down and pulled the crying girl up by her arm, muttering

"Come on then…"

…

Michael dropped off the others at Trevor's. After assuring Trevor he wouldn't be needing his assistance, he headed out on the freeway.

The girl got on her knees where he told her to stand. He cut the tape that bound her hands behind her back and handed her a handkerchief. He certainly wouldn't want his corpse to be found with snot and tear-smudged make-up all over its face. He suspected that young girls took it even more seriously. Michael stood back and pretended to be looking at the city glowing below them as she wiped away the mess. He inconspicuously pulled out a gun.

Looking over his shoulder, he almost found it funny that she was now tidying her tangled hair, facing the skyline as well. It reminded him of Amanda. She would run her fingers through her hair like that when she was nervous, even though Michael was certain her hair was already perfect. He blinked to banish his wife's image and stepped behind the girl, cocking the gun. It caught him by surprise when she sniffed and tremblingly said,

"At least face me when you shoot me."

Michael unwillingly walked over to stand at 3 o'clock from her, allowing her to take in the view as well as watch him. He paused to give her a moment, intent on shooting her in a split second of surprise. But the universe had another plan.

A sudden sound startled them both. Michael furrowed his brows and quickly took a look at his phone, thinking there was no way he would pick up _now_. His intention shifted when he saw Tracey's contact photo.

"Baby, now's not the time."

"Daddy?" Tracey's voice softened his resolve as usual.

"Daddy, I need you."

Michael watched his victim's face as he responded,

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to pick me up. I was on my way from a party and the cops stopped me. They think I'm drrr-unk, which I'm clearly NOT… "

Michael rolled his eyes, having no doubt his daughter was at least mildly intoxicated and pretty certain she had smoked something illegal too.

"… anyway, you have to pick me up and talk to these guys. _Please_?"

"Okay, just… hang in there. Where are you?"

Mentally noting the address and barely persuading himself to school his daughter only after saving her from the police, Michael hung up and focused on his victim again.

_That's what she is, right? My victim. Well, someone's victim as far as the LSPD would be concerned. Another pretty girl found dead in the hills, a life terminated too soon by a deranged murderer. Either that or the same people who offed her relatives._

He had thought he knew what needed to be done, but looking at the puffy red face now, he wasn't so sure about what he was doing here.

_Is this who I am now? A psychopath who kills one girl and drives another one home safely right after?_

Michael pointed the gun at her forehead. It was hard to miss.

_No._

_I am a man, a husband and a father, an accomplice and a friend doing what needs to be done to keep everyone safe, including himself._

_Safe from whom? Her?_

The girl looked so lost and pitiful. She was returning his inquisitive gaze and her glassy red eyes looked so big now. So brown, so green, so vivid. He had shot countless faces with prettier eyes, but it usually involved a different set of circumstances. Their owners tended to return fire or stand in his way.

Of course, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Amanda and Tracey reminded him about the truthfulness of that statement daily.

She would inherit enough money to send hitmen after the whole De Santa family, Trevor, and Franklin. As much as he would have liked the second eventuality, the other two left a lot to be desired. She definitely saw his face, heard his name, knew about Trevor's trailer and Madrazo's involvement.

The phone is his hand lit up with a text message from Tracey, urging him to hurry up.

What if he got killed tomorrow, would he expect someone to come along and finish his family too? This girl was about as criminally involved as his wife and kids were. She wasn't her father or brother. She was collateral damage who picked the wrong time to visit her family. A confused pawn in big men's game.

Michael was still unsure of his decision but realised he couldn't do the deed even if he wanted to. He had thought about it too much at this point. His conscience made the call and ultimately told him to let her go. The decision must have reflected on his face because she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, looking relieved. Her ugly grimace softened into a calm expression just as Michael clicked his gun and put it back into the holster. He made sure his tone was stern and menacing when he told her,

"Forget what happened. At least, forget about us. These are clearly people you don't wanna be messin' with, starting with me. Bury the hatchet, get a therapist, go home back to your life."

When he failed to draw a reaction from her, he attributed it to the shock and fear, so he just got to his car and started the engine before realising her handbag was still in the backseat. Michael reached for it and put it just outside the driver's door, imagining Tracey's reaction had he left it in his car. Although he'd rather pretend it belonged to a stripper.

Tessa kept her eyes closed and listened as the sound of the engine grew distant. Warm breeze caressed her face and hair, the shivering foliage and distant sounds of the city helping her calm down, soothing her nerves. She looked at the skyline again and pondered over the man's words. Her fear had shrunk, but the sorrow still burned red, shifting into rage.

_I certainly do wanna mess with them. Just got to finish something first._


	4. Chapter 4: We Are Even

Trevor parked his truck in front of a lofty mansion standing in the hills. The forged fence surrounding it would have been a challenge but luckily for him, the gate was left wide open. The property was strangely unkept in contrast with its size and poshness – the place needed a gardener, a clean-up crew, and an architect. And since the thought had crossed _his_ mind, other people must have seen it as a ruin.

Admiring the bullet holes adorning the outside walls, he walked to the back of the property, following a cosy path lined with bushes and blooming trees. He turned the corner to see a swimming pool ruined by a crater; some lucky bastards must have played with grenades in the backyard.

He kept eyeing the ruined gardens spreading quite far from where he stood, unaware of his mistake; he had turned his back to the house.

"Turn around and state your business."

Trevor turned on his heel, intrigued by a young woman standing inside the house, aiming a hunting rifle at him.

"Hey," he quipped as a grin spread across his face, "I know you! Oh I knew it, I fucking knew Michael didn't have the balls!"

Her face looked better, the redness and were gone. Only black eyeliner made him realise her beauty was tuned up with makeup. Her long nose wasn't runny and her voice sounded pleasant now that it wasn't hoarse from illness and staying in his loving care. Her brows were furrowed the same way they were when he first spoke to her, giving her a brooding look.

Trevor noticed a shadow of a forming pout, probably over the fact he was directing his full attention at her features while blatantly ignoring the rifle pointed straight at his chest. Her face betrayed her frustration when his eyes slid down over her form and his posture shifted in a seductive, suave manner. Then he remembered the request.

"Gee, I was unsure of my exact business here when I arrived but… I'm determined to make this my business now," he said waving an arm in her direction. She didn't need to know he was passing by and wondered if there was anything worth taking. And that the distant police chopper was looking for his red Canis Bodhi. And why was the chopper looking for it - bragging is for lame people.

"And by the way, that won't kill me. Won't even stop me."

"I know," Tessa replied and looked through the scope, shifting her aim to his face, "but it _will_ hurt you." She kept the sights on him until her arm started to ache, then lowered the weapon with a sigh. She was hoping to instil _some_ fear into the intruder.

"Come on in then, kettle's on."

…

Trevor was slowly pacing around the room while Tessa sat on a beige couch, sipping tea from a small porcelain cup, her eyes following him. He was more interested in the house for the time being; it bore signs of a vicious shootout but the interior was remarkably clean. Someone had scrubbed the blood off the oak floor and beige carpets with great care but ignored the splatters on the walls. He noticed a few flower pots were shattered by bullets where they stood and the bullet-proof windows clearly had a tough time, there were holes and countless spots where bullets ricocheted off.

Her annoyed _tsk_ made him shift his attention from home decor to her.

"Mr Philips," she tasted the sound of his name in a way he found very pleasurable, a bit exciting even.

"Which one of your names do you want me to use?" he cut her off.

"Let's omit the name and shorten it to Tessa Vetinari."

"Fine by me." Trevor slumped into a large, comfortable chair opposite of where his hostess sat.

"Call me Trevor, sugar. Firstly, let me express my sincere hopes that you don't take the whole basement dungeon thingy personally."

"You would be dead if I did."

As much as Trevor doubted that statement, his sudden urge to up his manners shut him up. Her quiet, sophisticated existence emitted calmness he didn't want to destroy just yet. He attributed this to running low on drugs, the lack of speed in his bloodstream making him grow weary. Almost… peaceful? Good lord above.

Or maybe he just liked looking at her because she didn't show fear. Her face was perfectly expressionless, which was rare for people in his immediate vicinity. The only people who would look at him with the same lack of emotions were meth heads to whom he had just sold their fix.

"As I was going to say, I have set my sight on T.P. Industries and concluded that your services would be of great value to me." Trevor smirked at her eloquent wording and vaguely British accent – both seemed forced, fabricated, like she had swallowed a dictionary but never actually spoke to anyone. The sight of her drinking tea with her pinkie raised was ridiculous in his eyes.

"My enterprise only deals with solid business partners. Not to scrutinize but your walls have holes in them. Your family has been wiped out, their business torn down. You are a newcomer to San Andreas and have, dare I say, limited experience with running a criminal empire. Your only line of home defence is threatening trespassers with an air rifle. The moment your former kidnapper arrives uninvited and calls you out, you invite him inside for tea. The only local players you know don't take you seriously because they saw you running around when you were four. Did I fail to mention something?"

"Other than the fact that some of those players would prefer me dead, you've summed it up well."

"Wanna tell me why none of it matters?"

Trevor watched a self-confident grin put dimples on her cheeks.

"I have a great business opportunity at the tip of my fingers, Trevor. My family had a vast network of production facilities and smuggling operations. A bit of my care paired with the services of Trevor Philips Industries could go a long way."

"Key word: _had_."

"We are here to change that."

"I am here to confirm the suspicion that my friend is a lying coward. I've got what I came for."

Tessa got worried he might actually get up and leave, but he slowly reached for his cup, laid back comfortably, and gave her a challenging look.

"What can you offer to my enterprise?"

"Top lab equipment. Our meth production was halted but the hardware is still there; coupled with a skilled cook, you could bring up the purity of your product while reducing the amount of input."

"Are you suggesting my meth ain't pure?"

"Not 96,4 % pure and fashionably blue," she said innocently.

"Blue?"

"A different manufacturing method. It's very popular with upper-class kids thanks to a popular TV show. Even regular meth heads think it's a superior product – which it is," she quickly added. Trevor seemed unconvinced so she continued before he could stop her.

"You'd receive all of our chemical supplies, gratis. And," Tessa paused for a dramatic effect, "there's an encrypted file containing notes on optimising the manufacturing method, increasing the purity and volume at no additional costs. I will give you its location."

"Are you a business major or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," she replied smugly.

"The amount of bullshit business terms is reaching an unbearable level."

"I thought I was speaking to a CEO."

"If you want me to do you a favour," Trevor leaned forward and sneered, "don't insult me."

"I'm not asking for a favour."

"Sure sounds like a fucking favour to me, whatever it is. Actually, what is it you want me to do? Let's stop wastin' time here."

"Well, my company is running low on employees at the moment," Tessa clasped her hands together and pointed her index fingers at him,

"due to certain recent events, our HR department is lacking. That's where you come in."

"T.P.I. isn't an HR outsourcing company."

"I can't exactly hire one for this."

"What is 'this'?"

"I need to secure whatever's left of our assets. Hard to say who just grabbed something and ran and who was active in betraying us."

"You want me to do your detective work?"

"I want you to do my dirty work. I want you to grab your friends, go to a marked location, and kill everyone in sight."

"Why don't you hire some goons?"

"Our finances are running low. The remaining assets have low liquidity. Besides," she gave him what seemed like the first genuine smile, "I like your personalised approach."

"Let me sum this up. You are borderline broke, most of what you owned is in the hands of your ex-employees, and you want me to go and kill them so that I can have some of it?"

"I will pay you cash once we cut off the dead weight and get back on track."

"Get back on track in what exactly?"

"When the meth production goes to you, we'll still deal in large-volume smuggling, money laundering, high-priority hits, global drug and weapon distribution…"

"Why would anyone deal with you?" His question seemed to offend Tessa. He could tell even though she tried to hide her disdain.

"I have connections and an impeccable brand reputation. Customers will flock back once I kickstart the business."

"No point beating a dead horse."

Tessa frowned.

"The horse isn't dead. There's tens of thousands of junkies getting itchy for the fix our products provide them. Tens of politicians and local leaders who need silencing. Hundreds of drug and war lords in dire need of more, cheaper firearms. We just need to show them that the horse is still kicking."

Trevor set down the empty cup, amused.

"Ah well, it all sounds like a load of fucking bullshit, but you had me at 'kill everyone in sight'. Your pitch talk was shit though."

…

"Oooh, don't you just love this place!" Trevor was skipping around like a child excited for Christmas Eve, putting his hands on a large tank made of stainless steel. Chef had to admit the lab was superb, way better than what he had to cook in, although they would need to move the bodies first.

"I don't see any way we could move the equipment from here to our own lab."

"You can keep this entire place."

Chef swung around after the voice and blinked at a casually dressed woman standing at the top of the stairs, appreciatively looking around, seemingly unfazed by the blood and corpses.

"Uh… boss?"

"Relax! This is our generous patron – I mean – business partner, ain't that what you like to call it?"

"Sure," said Tessa as she made her way to Chef and outstretched a hand towards him, giving him a friendly smile. He shook it.

"Chef."

"Nice to meet you, Chef. I'm V. Looking forward to working with you in the the near future, seeing what you two did here."

Trevor appeared from the back of the kitchen and made an appreciative grunt. Tessa passively watched as he bent forwards, picked her up by the waist, and rocked her a few times.

"You weren't lyin', darling! Wooo-hooo!"

"Glad you like it," she said dryly and waited for him to put her down.

"Now," Tessa brushed off her blazer, "hope this proves enough of an incentive to sustain our dealings?"

"Oh yeah, I'm sold," Trevor purred as he walked along one of the counters, leaving a long blood stain with his left hand.

"Good. Next hit will be the final product stash. You clear it out, I ship the product out to be sold at the highest price possible, you get paid for your troubles once it's sold."

"Sounds fun, send me the address and we'll let you know when it's over."

"Oh. I couldn't possibly leave you alone with quarter a ton of the purest methamphetamine in this time zone. I'll meet with you before you go in. Might be someone of interest to me in there too."

Trevor shouted after her as she turned to leave,

"You ever heard of a little thing called mutual trust?!"

"As my Hungarian granny used to say: trust, but verify."

Tessa stopped at the top of the stairs, then remembered something and turned back to the two men below.

"I should note that the stash used to be well-guarded and it's safe to assume there will be even more men now that we've stirred the pot. Come in numbers and well prepared. I'll pay you a 20 % finder's fee and 15 % of the original sum for each extra person."

"Wow, you like throwing money away, don't you?"

"I know you'll only bring a handful anyway."

When Trevor scoffed, Tessa added,

"And _I_ pay no casualty expenses, Trevor."

_Should make you pay for this blazer too_, she thought angrily.

…

Michael followed Trevor's truck and stopped the car in front of a shell of a once grand mansion. The house was empty and dark, all lights were off, there weren't any cars in the driveway. He could see the outlines of unkept lawn and wild bushes thanks to his headlights.

"Sure this is the place T?"

"Don't doubt me Michael. We wait."

Michael rolled his eyes and looked out of the window again. Staring at the shape of the house against the darkening sky, he pondered over whomever lived there. Mandy would strangle the gardener if weeds in _their_ garden ever grew this high.

"Finally," he heard Trevor murmur and squinted to make out a shadow coming towards them from the house, only slightly darker than its surroundings. It was a woman dressed in all-black, including a tight-fitting turtleneck. She looked like a Soviet spy from some of his favourite old movies. Any sympathy that might have won her was dashed when she came closer and he made our her face.

"You?! What are you doing here?!"

"Nice to see you too, Mr De Santa."

Trevor ignored Michael's voice shouting at him from the headset, choosing to focus on his own anger instead. Why would she get in the car with Michael instead of him? Anyway, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing.

"Relax, M. Next stop: stash house!"

…

The journey was silent for the first ten minutes or so. Eventually Michael just couldn't stand it and said,

"I told you to stay out of this. I spared you."

He saw her eyes flicker to him in the corner of his vision.

"And I'm glad you did. Thank you. But this is my business."

She kept staring at Michael's frown in silence, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she continued,

"You also told me to bury the hatchet. I did. This isn't personal. Hardly would be working with you – paying you well – if it was."

Michael twitched when she put her hand on his right forearm.

"Don't worry Michael. It's not you I'm after. Now or ever."

Michael took his eyes off the road and finally faced her.

"Good, because that wouldn't end well for you. I gave you the chance to run once. Ain't doing it again."

The dim light of the dashboard was enough to allow him to see her wolfish grin.

"Might stuff you into a suitcase though."

"You'll need a fucking huge suitcase then."

She chuckled and let go of his forearm. The mood was lifted and everybody's thoughts focused on the task at hand.

…

Soon after, three cars rolled to a stop on a dusty country road heading further into the woods. Franklin stepped out and looked over at Trevor.

"You people sure this is it?"

Tessa was already passing him, staring into her phone.

"This is it. Lower your voice F. Not too far ahead."

Franklin raised his eyebrows and Trevor shook his head in frustration.

"Look Missy, if we doing this, we doing this by my book. This is T.P. Enterprises territory. You just sit back tight, a'ight?"

All three men watched Tessa square her shoulders, take in a deep breath, and quickly pace to stand in front of Trevor. At a safe distance, Michael noted to himself.

"I have the blueprints, I own the stash, and there might be someone I need dead inside. I _am_ going in."

Trevor took a step forward and towered over the girl, raising his voice,

"That's not what we agreed on!"

"It's not, because you would have disagreed."

She turned on her heel and marched towards their destination before Trevor could react and before anyone could see the blush spreading over her face.

Tessa put her phone in her pocket and reassured herself this was a good idea when she was startled by a strong grip on her upper arm. She was yanked around to face Trevor' ugly mug looming in the darkness above her.

"Here," he growled and pressed something into her stomach. She looked down and realised it was a gun.

"In worst case scenario…"

His patronizing talk was cut off when Tessa reached to her waist and showed him a small, concealed weapon of her own.

"Thanks, but I've got all the bases covered." She took the one he had offered her and pressed it back into his other hand, then walked backwards to give him a smug look before turning around and pressing on.

Her eagerness died down when the group reached the house; it was more of a cottage or a small hunting lodge standing in a clearing, bathing in the moonlight. They stopped at the edge of the woods and crouched behind trees to assess the situation at hand.

"I see four guards," whispered Michael.

"Six," Franklin corrected him.

Trevor lowered his binoculars to glance at Tessa.

"They expecting anyone?"

"They are sitting on a treasure out here, of course they are wary of visitors. The entry to the real thing is located inside the lodge. You three go ahead, I'll follow."

"As you command, m'lady," Michael said mockingly and switched the safety on his rifle off.

…

Half an hour later, Tessa emerged from the trap door in the floor. She looked up at the three slightly sweaty men standing around, watching her, expecting her verdict.

"First off, the blue gold is down there. Secondly, and you ain't gonna like this, it's about 40 % smaller than I had expected. Bastards must have started moving it out already."

Franklin, though visibly annoyed, helped her out and asked,

"Any clue where to?"

"A few. I'll have to go through dad's files again. Have you checked the bodies?"

"Nobody fits the description. One fuck's head is blown off but he's too short to be your man," Trevor responded nonchalantly. He was glad to see she was a bit pale and made it his mission to make her as uncomfortable as he could.

Tessa hurried outside, possibly to escape the smell of blood and death that lingered inside the lodge. She made her way into the clearing when she heard the distinctive sound of a clicking gun behind her.

"What the fuck man?!"

"Shut up, Frank."

Slowly, she turned around and realised she was staring into the barrel of the same gun Trevor had offered her earlier. Tessa warily raised her hands and glared into his dark eyes.

"The way I see this," Trevor started leisurely, enjoying every second,

"I can either drive you home, let you do your thing, and the three of us walk away splitting a 26 % cut. Or," he said in a much more enthusiastic voice,

"I can get rid of you now, make my amends to the ladies, and take your 64 % too. Blaine county meth heads may pay less but it all goes to T.P.I. Besides, we're part of the slow meth movement: bioregional, locavores only. That's what out operation's all about. Time for another pitch, sweet cheeks!"

Tessa took a second to respond.

"This isn't the last job I have for you. All this meth – it's just a drop in the ocean. Only I know where the rest is."

"What if we look into your daddy's files? Won't we find other locations?"

Tessa shrugged,

"You might. Bet you could find a few. But I left most of the files encrypted and hidden. Alone, you can make about an eight of what you can make with me. And you'll face the competition alone."

"Cold hard numbers, I like those," Trevor groaned and paced closer, never breaking his aim,

"but I'm still tempted to put a hole in that smug face of yours. How about we raise the finder's fee up to 30 %?"

Tessa bowed her head slightly but other wisely stood still. Michael was surprised with the effect it had; before, the bright moonlight and the porch light lit her entire face. She looked like the twenty-something girl she was - young, innocent, and thoroughly naïve. Her eyes looked like saucers as she stared back with a somewhat startled expression, thinking about what to say in order to save her life.

With just a slight adjustment of angle, her deep-set eyes shone at them eerily from the shadow of her brows. Her features were sharp and partly hidden. If Michael didn't know when and where he was, who he was looking at, and if Trevor wasn't almost pressing the barrel of his gun against her arched forehead now, he would find that face almost… menacing.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by a sudden flash of red light and he jumped towards Trevor before he was stopped dead in his tracks by Tessa who coldly said,

"Don't."

The light only moved around for a second before finding a spot between Trevor's eyes. He saw it moving too and he knew, if not by his animalistic intuition, then by Tessa's satisfied expression. Enraged, he shouted,

"You _fucking_ little _shit_!"

"Trust, but verify. Seems we are even now, don't you think, Trevor?"

She watched him seeping with rage and wondered if he would shoot her anyway. Hard to tell considering his state of mind.

"I will raise your commission when you deserve it. Now," she waived her hand and the light flashed again before disappearing,

"let's forget about this and get ourselves back on track."

Trevor utilized the disappearance of the red dot by immediately grabbing the hair at the back of her head and pressing the barrel into the hollow spot under her cheek, aiming upwards.

"Fuck you, charming. Fuck. You!"

Tessa blinked, seeing all of Trevor's veins standing out and him gritting his teeth. Too close to her face for her liking. Well, nothing to do about that now. She was positive he'd blow her brains out if she as much as shifted in his grip. She opted to use the saucers look again, accompanied by a nervous gulp.

Franklin rubbed his face in relief when Trevor let go. Michael wheezed and closed the distance between them, taking Tessa's elbow and promptly dragging her back into the woods. He ignored the half-hearted punches she was landing on his arm.

"Let – go – of - me! I have to stay behind and overlook-"

"No honey, you need to get away from T as quickly as possible," he said through gritted teeth and threw her against a tree once they were hidden from plain view. Tessa looked up from under her furrowed brows.

"I had it under control."

Michael laughed,

"Trust me, nobody had control over that situation."

He sensed that his angry tone wasn't getting through to her so he switched it for calmer one and stood straight.

"Listen to me, Tessa. You can't play Trevor. You can't control or manipulate him. If he wants something, he takes it without a second thought or a care about the consequences. He's deranged, ruthless, and devoid of logic. Trevor's a monster, even when he stands on your side."

"You think I care about that lunatic? He came to me. I need him to put my business back on its feet and running. My intentions with him are purely transactional, our work is temporary." Then she scoffed,

"Are you seriously berating me for defending myself right now? Besides, why do you care what happens to me? Wasn't so long ago you almost killed me yourself."

"Yeah well maybe I should have."

After what felt like a long moment of silence, Michael asked her softly,

"How old are you, exactly?"

"Twenty-one."

"Hm."

"Younger than your eldest, eh?"

"How do you-"

"My family kept extensive files. I like to know who I work with. I know what you three are capable of. Some might say it's not Trevor I should be most worried about."

Michael pointed a finger in her face.

"It won't end well for you. Mark my words before you do anything stupid."

"Dully noted. Can I go now?" she smirked at him. Unfazed by his words just like Tracey, he remarked.

…

Tessa let out a frustrated sigh as she entered the house from the back garden and realised how cold it was. Night breeze slipped through the broken windows and moved the curtains. Not bothering to turn the lights on, she walked up the stairs and searched for her room. End of the hallway, on the left. Smaller than the other rooms because her father knew she wouldn't be using it very often, studying in Europe. But it had the best view.

She opened the door and smiled sadly when she saw her suitcase standing by the bed. Father must have had it picked up after her abduction. A bouquet of withered flowers stood on the bedside table. Ransoming her out was almost a routine now, he probably wasn't even worried that much, just anxious to get it over with. Sending his best men as usual. Unaware of the noose tightening around the house.

She blinked the thoughts away, took out her pyjamas and bathrobe and slipped into the bathroom next door.

Lying in the bathtub and sipping gin, she was ignoring her phone. It's been lightening up with incoming messages for the last ten minutes. Finally, her nerve broke and she reached for it with dried hands. The first three messages were from mother and the immediately deleted the notifications. But there was a fourth message that intrigued her.

_R U OK?_

She thought for a moment before responding,

_For now. Chasing ghosts. Thanks for the assistance tonight._

It only took a few seconds.

_Can I help?_

Tessa replied,

_Come home._

She smiled at the response.

_Thought you might never ask._


	5. Chapter 5: Ghosts Of The Past

Trevor abruptly woke up. It took him a moment to realise why – his phone was ringing. Already hating the caller, whoever they might be, he grunted, sat up, and struggled to put it to his ear.

"Who the _fuck_-"

"Trevor," rage gave way to surprise before resuming in full force.

"Listen here you little-"

"Trevor! We've been over this," said Tessa pleadingly,

"Focus. I need you. Now. Someone is coming for me. I need you to get here before them and kill them when they show up."

Trevor tried to hide the pride in his tone.

"Why don't you get that sniper friend of yours to keep you safe?"

"He's not that good. You're a better shot. Besides, I can't trust him like I can trust you. Trevor, please. I'll pay you fifteen grand when he's dead."

Trevor scoffed. Surely his voice would give out the pride now.

"Let me get this straight…"

"No! There's no time. I'm in danger! Get here ASAP. I'll prepare your bedroom." Trevor heard roots of hysteria and tried to get out more.

"Only if it's your bedroom." He could almost hear Tessa roll her eyes. Her phlegmatic nature was so disappointing sometimes.

"See you at the house."

Trevor rubbed his sore eyes and looked around. He was somewhere in the city, alone, with no bodies around (for a change). He's been behaving well. Still, he felt strange as he climbed up to his feet, and looking down, he realised why.

_Well, she said ASAP. She better not complain._

…

Tessa and Trevor laid spread across the lofty beige sofa, head to head, watching the sunrise and the painted sky above Los Santos. Tessa knew she should be worried about her guest's habit of tossing empty beer bottles over his shoulder, but her own intoxication didn't allow her to care enough to do anything about it.

Swirling her gin & tonic around, she furrowed her brows in concentration, trying to recall why exactly did she allow this to happen. She must have had a solid reason. Of course she had. Trevor might be all smug and confident in his belief that it was him who persuaded her, but she knew that couldn't be right.

After all, _she_ managed to persuade _him_ to take a bath and switch the flowery dress for a large, but most importantly long bathrobe. Getting drunk around him was one thing, having him walk around flapping his junk and staining the sofa with his stench and dirt was a different matter entirely.

"Mmm, this beer's the shit! You rich assholes know one good thing and it's b_-*burp*-_eer."

"Courtesy of dad," she said and wiped away a tear that might have been imaginary.

"I hate beer so knock yourself out. Accht.. act…ually, don't. We got a killer on his way! He's a sucker for dram…mmmatic entrances though, think he'll arrive at night. Ugh. Fuck." Tessa was suddenly very disappointed in herself and decided to take her revenge out on the glass in her hand. It got her into this mess after all. She tossed in on the coffee table as carelessly as she dared, but it didn't even fall over.

"I'm drunk. In here, with the windows that got rekt… and with _you_ of all the people who wanna shag or kill me."

"I don't! Admittedly, I used to, but we're drunk at your house together. C-can't kill my drinking buddies."

After a pause, he added,

"And fucking your business partners is unprofessional. I've never abided by that rule, but you're not my type."

Tessa laughed obnoxiously and rolled around on the couch.

"Love your loyalty to principles! Might make you my second-in-command. After the current one comes to kill me."

Trevor opened another beer and Tessa quietly poured herself tonic. Time to sober up.

"That who he is? I figured he was your boyfriend or somethin'. What's the story?"

"Oh he was. Or… I thought he was. Secret boyfriend. He was just fucking me on the side. Bloody cretin if you ask me."

"I can fuck him when he comes if you want," Trevor purred and Tessa felt a wide smile forming on her face. Trevor sounded so genuinely happy whenever he got a chance to do something malicious.

"Let's just be done with him. He's a sssneaky, ssslippery bastard. Can't risk him getting away. He was there you know," her voice trembled and Trevor twisted to look at her.

"At the handover. James. Handsome James. Tall James. Trustworthy, reliable James. Sold out my father, brother, and me. Orchestrated the killing of our most loyal employees."

"What did he want with you? He tried to take you with him."

"Probably wanted to push me around and kill me himself, anything to get his dick hard."

"That his thing huh."

"When I'm involved."

"Can't blame him, it sounds exciting."

"Ey, don't get any ideas. Mi casa!"

"That has never stopped me before."

"Ugh."

When Trevor didn't seem to be getting up any time soon, Tessa let her guard down again and resumed conversation to distract him further.

"So how are you going to kill him if you're drunk as a skunk?"

"Easily, even if I was drunk as a skunk. Which I'm not. You are."

"I didn't drink that… much…"

"Rookie drinker, booo. You call yourself a college student? You should be ashamed of yourself."

He was right of course, practise makes a huge difference. Tessa concentrated all of her brain power to remember when was the last time she got drunk.

"Half a year ago. When did you get drunk… before this?"

"Literally before this."

"No wonder you look like this."

And just like that, Trevor snapped and all amicability was gone. The man bolted from his spot on the couch and smashed his half-full bottle against the floor under Tessa's head. She winced and looked him in the face, not having realised how serious he was. She was about to scold him but stopped short when she saw the mask of pure fury and concentrated hatred. God he was even uglier when he was mad. She contemplated telling him but correctly assessed the situation and kept her mouth shut.

Trevor's bulging eyes shot up to the ceiling and he started pacing around angrily.

"You're fucking unbelievable. Fuckin' beg me to come to your house and stay for days, bitch for ages when I wanna get a drink for my troubles," he growled as he stormed to the kitchen counter and knocked numerous bottles to the floor,

"…won't even allow me on the couch, and now you're laying here insulting me? You really are an ungrateful cow."

"Ummm..."

"What, you wanna call me names? Poke fun at my face some more?!"

Tessa gulped and watched his erratic movements, wondering where would he strike next. So these were the 'bouts of rage' she had read about. Even the somewhat unprofessional handwritten note, 'f*cking hell walking on earth' sounded about right now. She blinked when he stopped and glared at her, shoulders hunched and fists clenched.

"Trevor, it's not your face. It's the state of you that's… shit. You looked into a mirror in the past decade?"

"Wanna tell me what the fuck you on about?!" Trevor shouted and threw a bottle of whiskey against a wall.

"You on drugs right? Meth too? Seems so by the sores. Your diet of booze and drugs coupled with an overally shitty lifestyle will send you to an early grave man."

"Well maybe I don't give a turd! Maybe all I care about is sending as many fucking assholes into theirs, starting with you!"

"Come on now, I mean well for you," Tessa put on her soothing tone. It worked marvels with ordinary men but its effect on Trevor was a mystery.

"I could get you hooked on something better than meth-"

"I'm not on meth anymore. I switched it for speed."

"Even better! How about I go upstairs and give you my personal stock of Ritalin? You'll be dead before it turns you into a vegetable anyway."

"Wow, you really are a dumb college kid. Spoiled brat who thinks she knows best. Let me tell ya sweet cheeks," he jumped towards the couch and put his face mere inches from hers, "you don't know _shit_."

Struggling to supress a natural response to his breath, she wondered whether she would play this safe and work on calming the madman down, which was of course the smart option… or whether she would show off with her knowledge.

There was actually no dilemma, but she liked to pretend there was just so she could point out that she was aware of the risks. That she had put some thought into the decision making process even if she didn't.

Knowing they may very well be some of her last words, she focused her glance of Trevor's left eye again and said,

"I've read your file, Trevor Philips. I know you."

Understandably, that line made Trevor feel threatened and when he felt threatened, he tended to eliminate everyone around before they could become a threat.

In this case, he lunged down, grabbed the girl's neck, and yanked her upwards. Then he spun around and ran towards a blank wall, basically carrying her body, before slamming her against it.

Tessa was ready and arched her back before the impact to save her head. Her back would be useless against Trevor anyway. She would have answered his question before he spoke it but she just had the wind knocked out of her, which provided Trevor with a window.

"A'ight shortcake, tell me."

"Corruption, FIB. Your life story. All fits together. ADHD, childhood trauma, textbook sociopath. Prone to drugs. Made it worse. Snowball to avalanche in 45 years."

It came out worse than it sounded in Tessa's head. Maybe if she had more oxygen and didn't have to choke on her words, the speech would have been much cooler.

If she was hoping Trevor would be touched to learn there was someone who understood him, her expectations weren't fulfilled. Seeing she was done talking, Trevor's grip tightened and he put brutal pressure on her windpipe.

_At least his hands seem too big to strangle me_, she thought as her legs started involuntarily kicking and ignoble sounds escaped her closed-off throat. Eyes welling with tears, she thought,

_He might have to drop me and pull out the bathrobe belt._

Seconds after the thought crossed her mind, his hands disappeared, Tessa dropped to her knees and gasped for air, already having use for it.

"Nobody else knows. Just you and me - _*cough*_ \- know the truth…"

Perplexed that she hadn't been interrupted yet, she looked up and found it genuinely surprising when she saw Trevor sitting on the couch, his bathrobe still tied. He held his face in both hands.

Flabbergasted at the unexpected turn of events, she didn't move or speak until her vision cleared, the coughing stopped, and she felt ready for another potential altercation.

After another minute of silence, she grew too curious to keep her mouth shut.

"Good call. A moment longer and I would have thrown up in your face."

Trevor seemed amused and… sad? Angry? His smirk seemed to contain a mixture of feelings. He looked at her through his fingers, then rubbed his eyes and let out a disgusted moan.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why aren't you scared of me?"

Confident he wouldn't pounce on her if she moved, Tessa sat down and rubbed her sore neck.

"I'm lacking in the emotions department."

"Fear isn't an emotion, it's instinct. Animals can survive without emotions."

"Then I'm a living proof that animals can live without basic instincts too."

"You're a dumb animal then! Fucking hell. I should be the one mentoring you about drugs. Let me start by saying you need much stronger stuff than your _RiTaliN_. Then you might actually get something out of life."

Tessa crossed her legs to sit more comfortably and shrugged.

"I like to keep it cool."

"Oh don't lie to me. I saw you bawl your eyes out."

"The circumstances called for it!" said Tessa almost defensively. She noticed her attempts at lifting his mood weren't working; he seemed to grow more sad every minute. Wasn't even paying attention now, battling whichever demons he carried, hiding his face in his palms again. Up until this point, she wasn't sure he possessed the capacity for sadness, regret, or fear.

Tessa felt it would be right to crawl closer and touch his arm, but she knew the man was volatile and she had enough strangling for one day. She opted to sit on the floor in silence, observing the sunrise again.

"My fucking luck…" she heard Trevor mutter and barely made out the words. She watched him with growing concern as he reached for her glass and gulped down its contents. He growled and gave her a nasty look.

"Fucking cheater."

She didn't protest when he threw the ornamentally cut glass, part of an expensive imported set, in her direction. She ducked even though she didn't have to, the glass flew way above her head. She took it as a good sign, certain Trevor's aim was better than that despite his drug use.

Meanwhile, he took the Bombay Sapphire she had opened that night and drank with the vigour of someone who's been stranded in a desert for days. Watching him drink with a raised eyebrow, she got up and walked into the kitchen. Trevor barely paid her any mind as he lowered the bottle only to take a breath. His vision started to blur by the time she returned and set a brand new bottle of Tequila and vodka in front of him. He thanked her with a burp and reached for the vodka.

…

He lost sense of time and space for a while after that, but eventually, something from the world around him reached not only his ears, but his brain too.

"What?" he barked and his eyes focused on a freshy trimmed bush near his head.

"I asked about your fucking luck," he recognized the girl's voice. With great effort, he turned his neck and saw her too, working on removing weeds from a flower bed, looking like a Vinewood gardener with her vaguely foreign features and expensive gear.

"My fucking luck… ah! My fucking luck that when someone actually bothers to know… it's always… a turd like you."

He felt a handful of dirt or fertilizer hit his face and he drunkenly struggled to get it out of his right eye and nose.

"Manners Trevor. I've been nothing but nice to you."

"With your smug looks and insults… didn't even try my world-famous stew… thinking you're better than me!"

"Well excuse me for not liking pork," she complained and he saw her moves getting frantic as she started taking her frustration out on a particularly strong thistle.

"Suppose you could call him a pig…" he hummed under his breath. Tessa either couldn't discern his words or didn't care, fed up with his attitude.

"You know, you haven't been nice to me either. You've physically assaulted me four times, kidnapped me, held me hostage in complete darkness… and do you hear me complaining about any of that?"

"I would rather hear your complaints than deal with your smug contempt for my existence and lifestyle!" Trevor shouted and managed to turn from his back to his side, the dirt finally sliding off his face.

"I swear, if I wasn't such a workaholic, I would have killed you. Even if you were half as annoying as you are."

"Never too late. Won't even have to lift a finger, actually, since another man might be on his way to get me and you're my only line of defence!" There it was, the hysterical subtone.

"Well he better get in line else he gets some too."

"Ugh!" Tessa threw the weeds away and got up. Trevor's ability to speak was way better than his ability to move, so he didn't have a choice when she pushed him on his back again and crouched above him, holding him by the collar of the bathrobe.

"I have bothered to know. Tell me something I don't know to make me care," she hissed and stared into his face. After a moment of silent contemplation, he said,

"I'm lonely. Everyone leaves me."

Trevor blinked as raindrops started hitting his face. He heard rustling of leaves around him as the rain started pouring down. He noticed the sky was a light shade of grey and it was too bright for him to look at. His eyes stopped squinting as Tessa moved closer to his face and shielded him from the rain and light. He saw crow's feet forming around her hazel eyes and felt her cold hand caress his cheek. He must have looked bewildered at the unfamiliar feeling because she let out a laugh.

"See? Now I care. Time to stop treating me like vermin."

…

The last thing Trevor remembered was the cold hand holding his cheek with greater care than most medics who had to touch him. He woke up with a grunt and stared at a green canvas above… and around him. Was he in a tent? He stumbled around and tried to yank it upwards but the corners held the tent too well, so eventually, he had to find the zipper and fight his way out.

He was in the same spot in the garden, not too far from the house. His bathrobe hang loose and undone as he staggered on his way to the swimming pool. Ignoring his dirty wet feet, he walked into the room where he'd been drinking with… oh.

Did he really tell her that? Was she actually… smiling for once? He must have imagined that part. She hated him. Everybody hated him, himself the most of them all, as fierce as the competition was.

Just as he started his downward spiral of self-loathing, she came into view and gave him a long look while she made her way behind the kitchen counter littered with large bottles in various stages of being finished. It wasn't an upset, worried, or mocking look, yet it was very attentive.

"Good morning sunshine," Tessa said and reached for a mug. Trevor yawned and moved to sit on a bar stool next to the kitchen counter.

"Uh… morning." His mind was racing to recall memories from this morning but his system needed a fix to work.

"Here," she said as she slid a pill and a glass of water towards him, turning to pour his coffee.

He recognised it as Ritalin but was too tired to start another argument. Felt like all he ever did was argue with people he didn't even care about to begin with. Such a waste of time.

Trevor swallowed the pill and took the coffee from Tessa. He didn't want to look her in the face but noticed she had a different outfit on, smart as always. A tight black turtleneck covered her bruised neck and he felt a slight jab of guilt at the thought. She put her long dark hair behind her ear, brought her own cup to her lips, and asked,

"Aren't you cold?"

Trevor glanced at his bare torso and, well, groin too.

"The dress won't be much warmer."

"Got some clothes upstairs, bodyguards' uniforms. First door on the right."

"What, you mind the view?" he asked teasingly.

"Nah, it's better than what I had expected, given how many meth heads you've had sex with. Didn't see any genital warts, that's a good start. But I need you to be nice and warm when you're up against James."

Trevor let out a long "ooooh" and shook his head.

"So that's what this is all about? You wanting me to put myself between you and a bullet from your ex. And I was beginnin' to think you liked my gruff exterior and love-starved heart."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive, Trevor."

"A'ight, give me a moment," he grunted and disappeared upstairs. Tessa took a long sip and looked at a clock on the wall. She wondered when would their guest arrive. What if he saw a stranger in the garden and figured it out?

Lost in thought, worried look on her face, she stared out the French windows. It took her a moment to register another face reflecting next to hers and another moment to react.

She swung around and dropped the mug. James stood close and was looking down at her with one of his infectious, wide smiles that made his handsome face even more attractive. He didn't wince at the sound of porcelain shattering at his feet, reached for Tessa's hips, and pulled her closer, his dark blue eyes unblinking.

"After all this time," he said, his melodic voice loud and heavy with emotion. He raised his hands to straighten the hair at the sides of her face, then held it and ran his thumbs across her cheeks, his smile widening to show his perly teeth as he leaned his head closer and their foreheads connected. Tessa didn't move and listened for any sounds coming from upstairs.

James suddenly let go of her face and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face in the hair on top of her head.

"Finally," he breathed out and Tessa winced.

"She's not yours to touch." James turned after the low growl and furrowed his brows when he saw an older man with wild expression and bulging eyes seeping into him. The man took a step forward and pointed a gun at him; he was quicker than James would have guessed by his unkept looks. He reacted by shoving Tessa behind him and his hand lingered near his weapon holster.

"Stand back," he said in a stern tone and managed to hide his surprise. He wasn't expecting anyone else.

The ugly stranger's eyes shot to Tessa behind him and a malicious-looking grin spread across his face.

"You weren't lying! And here I was thinkin' you made the hitman up to lure Uncle T in here!"

James frowned as he couldn't hide his confusion anymore.

"Tessa, what is he-"

His sentence went unfinished due to the collision of a gin bottle with the back of his head. In a battle of thick glass and man's skull, the glass won. James folded on the kitchen floor, narrowly missing the kitchen counter on his way down.

"It's nap time!" Trevor cheered and put his weapon away.

Tessa stood behind James and watched the unmoving body for a second, bottle in hand, before turning away. Trevor leisurely walked over and studied the unconscious man; he was interrupted by Tessa who dropped to her knees, a large knife in hand.

"Woooah, hold it there shortcake," he shouted and grabbed the wrist of the hand that clutched the knife. Tessa looked up into his face, refusing to let go of the man's blonde locks from her other hand.

"What?" she barked, making an annoyed face.

"Sure that what you want?"

"Bloody hell, he broke in here to kill me, do you want me to give him a fair warning or-"

"This is too quick, is what I'm sayin'! And he'll be out for most of it."

Tessa looked around and made a long 'hmmm' thinking.

"And I'd stain the carpets."

"Well either you or me baby…"

"Shut up," she shouted again and Trevor was almost taken back by the change in her demeanour. He let go or her wrist and watched her put the knife down, struggling to pick up the man's torso instead.

"Help me move him."

Trevor didn't move and asked,

"Where to?"

"The back garden," she grunted and motioned towards the pool with her head, trying to get a better hold. Trevor reached down and threw James over his shoulder. She sat there staring at him, so he raised his eyebrows and urged her with

"Lead the way!"

They only made it a few steps away from the pool when Tessa abruptly stopped dead in her tracks and Trevor nearly bumped into her. She was impressed how quickly he moved with a not-so-small man on his shoulder. He huffed with annoyance as she turned to look at the pool.

"You know what, I never liked swimming pools. How about we have our last fun in it?"

Trevor looked unhappy to say the least.

"But where else will I get a chance to see you in a bikini?"

"In your filthy dreams. Come on!"

An explosion made a hole in the fiberglass at the bottom of the pool, allowing water to seep through. It was now filled only with rotten foliage and dead bugs, along with some pieces of plaster and empty bullet shells. Tessa slid into the pool on the shallow end, followed by Trevor who threw the body down first, then jumped in and dragged it into the deep end. Tessa was already pacing around with the knife, getting visibly nervous, or excited.

"Okay," she breathed out as she watched Trevor drop the man's limp arm. He narrowed his back and gave her a curious look.

"I bet 100 bucks you'll take his dick first."

"That's not what I had in mind…"

Trevor folded his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Well take his nose then, I don't fucking care! Just get on with it."

"Yeah, it's just…" she switched her glance from James to Trevor and he thought she looked very uncertain at that moment,

"I've never actually… killed a person. Like… with my hands."

"Well you know what your Hungarian granny used to say," Trevor roared cheerfully, grabbed her by an arm and shoulder, and pushed her closer to James,

"There's a first time for everything!" he mimicked her high-pitched voice and made her press the edge of the blade on the man's neck. Tessa elbowed him with her free arm and Trevor took the hint to move away. He watched her seemingly deciding between the neck and the heart.

"Sure you don't wanna keep a piece or two?"

She shot him a glance full of daggers and he raised his hands defensively, taking a few steps back.

He watched her squeeze and turn James' neck, arms, and finally pat the insides of his thighs. Just as Trevor got excited in expectation of seeing whatever treasures James hid in his trousers, Tessa inhaled sharply and performed a series of quick moves.

Just twelve seconds later, she rose to her feet and stumbled backwards to where Trevor stood, not letting her gaze slip her work. Trevor made an appreciative grunt and patted her shoulder with a heavy hand, then wiped the blood off on her back.

"That'll teach him… something or other. Too quick for my taste, but nice work for your first time." He paused to think before asking,

"Tell me, was it him who you had your other first time with?"

Tessa was too deep in the moment to school him about his inappropriate question.

"Yes."

"Was he good?"

"I bled a lot."

Trevor laughed,

"Well you certainly paid him back for that. Nicely done!" he said through gritted teeth as he hugged her over the shoulders and shook her excitedly. It finally seemed to break her from her stunned state. She was smiling when he let go of her, although she still looked pale.

"Thank you Trevor. Couldn't do it without you."

"Oh don't underestimate your abilities, shortcake! You look like a bloody maniac right now, that's the first step."

Tessa let out a chuckle but looked at James again.

"Can't he wake up?"

"I got an easy fix for that," Trevor replied, made his way to the body and rapidly crushed its head with a few hard stomps. He put his full weight into it and was quite proud of the result.

"There," he let out in a husky voice, his breath quickened,

"now we look like a pair of homicidal lunatics. How about we take a shower together, hmmm? What do ya say, shortcake?" he tried to put his hands on her hips but she danced out of his reach and headed towards the shallow end.

"You go first, I'll deal with the pool canvas."

Trevor headed into the house with a frustrated groan, which brought a smile to Tessa's lips again and persuaded her to bite back at him.

"I ain't your type, remember?!"


End file.
